It Takes a Thief
by Sierra Sutherwind
Summary: Some days, it seems that everyone wants something from you. SSSWT 2019


**It Takes A Thief**

**by**

**Sierra Sutherwinds**

(1)

"Didn't your mother teach you to knock before entering?" Newkirk stood against the wall, pretending he had been there all the time. Fortunately, Schultz had not seen Carter leaving through the same hole in the wall.

Besides, he was too shocked to answer right away. Newkirk had just come in the cooler through a hole in the wall. "Was ist das?" He entered but did not wait for an explanation. He looked troubled by more urgent things. "Never mind, we need to talk."

Newkirk sighed deeply, anticipating a reprimand. "Listen, this is not what it looks like… maybe. I know we're not supposed to leave the cooler before time's out…"

"It's not about that. I'm not here to scold you, although I should," said Schultz. "Do you have time?"

Newkirk did not dare to joke as he heard the anxiety in Schultz's voice. He pretended to look at an invisible watch on his wrist and shrugged. "I have 27 hours exactly. Step into me office." He offered Schultz the chair and he sat down on the cot. "Well, what can I do you for?"

The sergeant took off his helmet and put it on the table. After staring at the floor for a moment, he seemed to gain courage to speak. "Englander… Newkirk, I… well, my finances are a little low right now… the Kommandant is not paying us yet and my…"

"Schultzie, if this is about your poker debts, just forget them," Newkirk tapped the sergeant's knee. "I'm going through a good run lately; consider it a Christmas gift in advance, all right?"

Schultz shook his head with a sigh. "It's not that. In fact, after I ask you what I have to ask you, I might owe you the double."

Now Newkirk was intrigued. He leaned forward, narrowing his eyes on the German sergeant. "What's bugging you, me lad?"

Schultz took a purposeful breath and nodded. "It's about my wife… as I said, we're going through a financial situation and she, well, she wants to help… by pawning some of her jewelry."

"How sweet of her."

"Do not interrupt me, I have something to ask from you."

"Sorry, carry on."

"She didn't say so, but I'm sure, she was talking about her wedding ring... She's going to the pawn shop tomorrow morning, believing they will give her good money for that ring." Schultz got up and began to pace. "She doesn't know that her wedding ring is… well, it is not…" he sighed, looking for the right words.

"It is not, Schultz?" Newkirk grinned mischievously. "It is not real, is it? Did you give your wife a false wedding ring? You naughty boy."

"I told you to wait till I tell you the entire story."

"All right, your wife's wedding ring is false. Where is the original? You gave it to another bird, didn't you?"

"Newkirk! There is no gold ring, or diamond... there never was… I… I didn't have the money for a real one." Schultz grabbed the Englishman by the arms to pull him up to his feet. "You've got to help me! If she ever knew…"

"All right, all right," Newkirk freed himself gently from Schultz's grip. "I still don't know what I can do for you. You don't want me to steal it, do you?"

Schultz smiled shyly. He nodded with relief. "Would you do that for me?"

Newkirk scoffed. "Sure, why not? Just give me a minute to tell Klink that I have an errand to do and I will be back in a tick." He crossed his arms over his chest and looked around. "After all, four walls and an iron door don't make a prison, right?"

"Oh, you're playing with me now?" Schultz smirked, a little upset with the Englander's attitude. "I just saw you coming through that wall."

"Who? Me? You're dreaming, me friend. This is a bloody prison camp. Nobody escapes from Stalag 13, and besides, if I ever went out, I would never come back."

"B-but the wall…" Schultz pointed, "I've seen you, and LeBeau, and Carter… everybody comes and goes as they please. Newkirk, if you don't do this for me… I'll tell the Kommandant all about your operations."

"Oh, Schultz, you don't mean that." Newkirk tilted his head, hoping the sergeant was just a little obfuscated. "We're mates, I'm sure you can find another way." The temptation to do the job was high, but Newkirk was sure that Hogan would never approve.

Schultz pleaded with his eyes. "I do mean it, Englander…" His voice trembled. "Gretchen will leave me." He stared at Newkirk so intently that the Englshman took a step backwards. "I don't know what I'm capable of without her. You. Got. To. Help. Me."

Newkirk restrained a smile. He was absolutely sure that the sergeant would never carry out his threats. There was desperation but not bad intentions. "All right," he said, "let me talk to Colonel Hogan and see what we can do." A sudden bear hug took him by surprise.

"Thank you, Newkirk! … But Colonel Hogan should not know about this. This is between you and me."

"What? I can't leave without the gov'nor's permission. If I knew how, that is." Newkirk smiled.

"Stop playing, Newkirk. You go out whenever you want to. All I ask of you is a little favor, no one has to know. You'll be back before dawn."

"What if I say yes? You can't pay me, and I can't do it for charity," he shrugged.

"I- I don't know..." Schultz sounded desperate and rather defeated. "What do you want?"

Newkirk could not keep tormenting the man. One brief pause was enough for him; it was time for business. "I'll think about it... The colonel is going to ground me for a decade, you know?" He chuckled when his eyes met Schultz's. "All right, what's the plan?"

* * *

"Did you see Newkirk?" Hogan asked Carter as soon as the young sergeant arrived to the conference table. "Did you fill him in? He knows where to meet us, right?"

"Yes, yes, at the bridge, half an hour before the explosion. I think I'll have the detonators in place by then." Carter sat down between Kinch and LeBeau. "I wrote it down so I don't forget anything."

"Remember that you only have to stop the train, we need the mailbag." Kinch lifted an eyebrow. Although they all acknowledged Carter's skills with the explosives, it never hurt to remind him to be careful.

"Don't worry, Kinch, this time he's with me. I'll make sure everything is in order. Pas problème." The French corporal smiled proudly, patting Carter's back.

"The number of patrols increased after the underground's latest job. We have to walk in pairs; LeBeau and Carter will go first; Kinch and I will follow you, ten minutes apart." Hogan kept a neutral tone, even if he was always concerned for his men. "Prepare yourselves, gentlemen. We're leaving in five hours."

* * *

Newkirk leaned against the wall, hiding in the shadows of the tunnel. Tonight, he was trying to be invisible; if Colonel Hogan knew where he was going, poor Sergeant Schultz would not get his fake wedding ring back. He wanted to help him and be there for the new mission too. He calculated he could do the job and be back in less than half an hour; then, he would meet the gang by the bridge. No one needed to know about his little good deed.

Once his way was clear, he ran to the fence and out of the camp. Following instructions, he walked several minutes until he found Schultz in a black car. The sergeant was hiding behind the wheel and did not notice the Englishman till the last minute.

"You're here. I thought you were not coming," he sighed with relief.

"This car looks very familiar," Newkirk raised an eyebrow.

"Really? I found it in the workshop, where Sergeant Kinchloe pretends to fix it every two weeks," Schultz said. "You did not think I was paying attention, did you?" He grinned, opening the passenger's door.

Newkirk smiled and got in the car. "We underestimate you, me old friend." He got comfortable for the trip. "By the way, Schultz, where do you live exactly?"

"In Heidelberg, about 15 minutes from Hammelburg." Schultz glanced at Newkirk's uniform and frowned. "It's that what you are wearing? Where are the black sweater and gloves?"

"Hey, I can be shot on the spot if they catch me out of my uniform, you know? Besides, I'm not a thief, I'm an entertainer."

"Well, you do a perfect impersonation of a thief in the camp."

"Don't flatter me; I'm not the one who stole Klink's car. The Kommandant is not going to be very happy."

"I'd wish Kommandant Klink were the only person I have to worry about. If Gretchen finds out that her wedding ring is worthless, I will lose her."

Newkirk did not like to see the sergeant so troubled. Schultz was one of the gang in many ways and he and the boys had learned to care about him as a friend. "Don't worry, mate. I'll do me best job for you and the missus."

Neither of them spoke until Schultz pulled over in front of the town. Newkirk looked around a little surprised. "Blimey! These have been the longest 15 minutes of my life." He tried not to look really concerned, but deep inside, he knew that this trip could cost him more than a reprimand from Hogan.

"Would you have come if I said it was two hours?"

"Certainly not," Newkirk sighed in resignation; there was no point in getting impatient since they were already there. "Never mind, where's your house?"

"Right ahead," Schultz pointed at the road. "Walk five blocks east; turn to your left-"

"Wait a minute. Aren't you driving me there?"

"Of course not. If anyone sees me, I'm dead."

"Why? Because of the fancy car? Someone could report you with Klink?"

"I'd wish," Schultz snorted. "If Gretchen knew I was in town and didn't go to see her…" he shook his head. "I'd rather face 100 angry Klinks. Now, you turn to the left, and walk three blocks. Haus Buxtehudestrasse 69. Master bedroom is upstairs on the right, Gretchen must be sleeping already."

"Five east, left, three blocks, sixty-nine, upstairs on the right..." he mumbled before turning, startled. "Wait, your wife is in the house?!"

"Of course she is, she doesn't go anywhere without her wedding ring. She leaves it on a little china plate on the dresser before going to bed. Her fingers get swollen at night so-"

"Schultz! I can't get in. What if she sees me and calls the police?"

"She won't see you. She's a heavy sleeper," Schultz dismissed Newkirk's concerned. "You promised to do this, Newkirk. It will be alright, I have faith in you."

"Don't say that," Newkirk rolled his eyes, rubbing the back of his neck. "This job is getting better by the minute."

"And you are the best for it, right?" Schultz opened the passenger door for him. "I'll be waiting for you here, in twenty minutes?"

"Let's be generous, give me half an hour." Newkirk winked and started to walk, before he changed his mind.

Schultz took a deep breath as he watched the Englishman blend with the shadows. It was rather kind of him to come and help. After this job, Schultz would be in Newkirk's debt forever…

(2)

Buxtehudestrasse was in front of a little square, with a line of trees in between. It seemed quiet place, even in war time and despite the patrols that were constantly driving around. Newkirk had to hide several times to let them pass. This was not what he had pictured when he accepted the job. It seemed that the Gestapo had taken the village, perhaps anticipating more sabotage. If he were caught, he could endanger intel operations for the allies and the underground. Newkirk sighed, and kept walking; no doubt, this was the stupidest decision he had made since he got enlisted.

"Sixty-six, sixty-seven... sixty-eight," he stopped in front of the sixty-nine, a typical Bavarian house, with flower pots in the windows. "Who knew? Hansel and Gretel's house." He took his set of lock picks and crossed the street, looking for the shadows. The lock was old and rusty, but easy to pick. Newkirk felt safer once he entered the house, but always keeping in mind that Frau Schultz was there, hopefully, fast asleep. He went upstairs to find the master bedroom as Schultz had directed. Newkirk slid inside slowly, keeping a mental blueprint of the layout of the room that the sergeant had described for him. The dresser was opposite to the bed and Frau Gretchen slept on the left side.

Newkirk turned on his flashlight and held it with his teeth while he opened the cute boxes on top of the dresser. The wedding ring was in the china dish, but as a good thief, Newkirk planned to take a couple of trinkets just to make it look like a vulgar robbery. It did not occur to him that one of those little boxes was also a music box. He closed it quickly but he could hear the click of a pistol being cocked behind him. Putting the flashlight in his pocket, Newkirk turned around with raised his hands. He smiled at the lady. "Why, that was quite a rendition of Swan Lake, innit?"

Gretchen sat up quickly, shielding her flannel nightgown under the duvet. She would not let him see her fear as she prepared to shoot the invader. "Please, you can take anything else, but not my wedding ring," she begged, putting on a brave face. "It isn't worth anything, I swear."

Newkirk recognized the little lady from when she came to the Stalag to pick up Schultz, on his leave for the weekend. He also put his eyes on the gun in her hand and tried not to make a sudden move. "Fraulein, I'm a thief, that's how I live..." There was a pause after he heard what she said about the ring. "Sorry, what did you just say? Not worth anything? But it's your wedding ring, isn't it?"

"My husband couldn't afford a real diamond, it's not even a gold ring." She sighed, forgetting the pistol on her lap. "He doesn't know that I know... I tried to pawn the ring after the great war."

"No, indeed? And you have been keeping the secret for twenty years? Remarkable." Newkirk lowered his arms to lean on the dresser. He did not know how Schultz would react to the news but Newkirk wanted to be there to see his face. "So you couldn't pawn your ring... what did you do then?"

"I did what I have been doing every time we are short of money." Gretchen shrugged, feeling less threatened. "I pawned my grandmother's bracelets..." The initial shock was gone now and she could take a better look of the invader. "You don't look like a thief... you are not even dressed like one. Is that a uniform?"

"Why yes, love. RAF, I am," he smiled and bowed, being careful not to say his name, since it was not required. "I'm dreadfully sorry for invading your home, I'm short of money meself. But due to unexpected circumstances, we can just take separate ways now, no harm done, fortunately."

"Wait," she stopped him before he got the bedroom door. "You're a prisoner, aren't you? I mean, did you escape?" Gretchen felt now in the uncomfortable situation of asking him to stay while she called the police. Somehow, she did not want to do that. "The Gestapo sent their people to patrol the village. They're not looking for you, are they?"

"Ah, no, sweetheart, I'm just passing by," Newkirk stopped at the door, not wanting to try his luck. "If you'd be so kind to stay here while I see meself out, just count to one hundred before calling the authorities."

Gretchen nodded, still confused, but determined not to call the police on this fugitive. "Be careful, please. Sometimes they shoot to kill."

Newkirk stopped at the main door, turning to glance at the second floor just once more. Then, he walked out, trying to be inconspicuous. Of course, one man in a solitary street, at midnight was hard to miss. It did not take them more than ten minutes for Newkirk to be spotted and handcuffed.

(3)

Schultz looked at his wristwatch again and again. By now, he was sure that Newkirk was not coming back, but he kept hoping for it. Perhaps, it was something he had said; or something he should not have said. It did not matter now; Schultz had to go back to the Stalag and hopefully, colonel Hogan would not get too mad at him for letting one of his men go.

* * *

"Where's Newkirk? He should've been here five minutes ago." Hogan was hanging there, trying to stay optimistic about this mission. So far, nothing had gone as planned; patrols seemed to be multiplying, the train was late and one of his men was missing.

"That's weird, I'm sure we talked about that this morning and he was coming." Carter kept working on the wires for the detonators, but there was concern in his voice. "You don't think that something happened to him in the cooler, do you?"

"I'd say he fell asleep but it's not like him to fall asleep before a mission." Kinch shrugged, helping Carter.

"We'll have to talk to him when we come back. For now, we need to get this job done, it's been a long week."

"But Colonel," LeBeau turned from his observation post, a little worried. "What are we going to do if there's a safe box? If it's too big, we could not take it."

Hogan rubbed his neck, trying to release the tension that began to build up in his shoulders. After a moment of silence, he shook his head. "We'll have to improvise, then. Let's forget the booty. Carter, set the explosives to detonate on time. We're going to blow up the train." This kind of decisions were not popular but effective to delay or stop the enemy's operations. "Kinch, take the music box and get in contact with Oz. No red shoes for Dorothy this time."

"_Let's face it, no day's perfect_," Carter sighed, preparing more explosives.

* * *

"I'm just fulfilling my duty as a POW and escaped from Stalag 13," Newkirk smiled, telling his story to the Gestapo agents. From the way they stared at him, he could guess that they were not buying much of it.

"We'll take you to Berlin, to verify your escape from the prison camp. You may save the rest of the story until then," Agent Franz grinned. "Get in the car, we'll take the midnight train."

"We're traveling by train? The midnight train?" Newkirk wondered if this was the same train they were supposed to rob.

"Why do you care how we'll get to Berlin?" The Gestapo agent raised an eyebrow. "And why are you so interested in that train? Did you have anything to do with the sabotage incidents around here lately? Stalag 13 is near Hammelburg, isn't it? Tell me, what do you know about the midnight train to Berlin?"

"Who? Me?" Newkirk snorted. "I don't know anything about that train... I was just curious. I don't care if we fly to Berlin for all that matter," he smirked and turned to the window. The plan was to blow up the bridge, not the train, he thought. There was nothing to worry about.

(4)

The train station was full of men in black. The underground kept the Gestapo busy these days. The train was arriving now and the agent escorted Newkirk into one of the compartments near the last car. From there, the Englishman could pay attention of how the mailbags were loaded.

"Something wrong?" The agent kept an eye on Newkirk, anticipating anything.

"Not really," the Englishman sat back and remained quiet for almost an hour. "May I go to the bathroom, perhaps?" Newkirk asked finally.

Agent Franz stood up and secured one extreme of the handcuffs to his wrist. "Don't try anything funny."

Newkirk smiled and nodded. The funny part came when the train took a curve and Newkirk pretended to lose his balance. Within seconds, he had the agent handcuffed to the arm of the sofa. "Sorry we didn't have time to get to know each other better, but I've got to go."

Agent Franz did not lose time. He pulled out his pistol, shot the handcuffs open and ran after his prisoner.

* * *

"I see the train now," LeBeau came down from his post. "It's like fifteen minutes away."

"Carter, set the explosives, we have to take cover." Hogan helped Kinch to pick up all their things and turned back to Carter.

"I'm on it… sir. I'm setting the clock for thirteen minutes. I just need a good spot on the trails."

"I'll help you with that," Kinch walked with him to the other side of the bridge.

LeBeau and Hogan moved their post by the riverside. The Frenchman kept watching the train with his binoculars. "I hope Newkirk is okay. He would've liked to be here."

There should be a good reason for Newkirk to miss a job just like that. Hogan was concerned but he would not tell his men. Right now, they needed to focus and finish this mission. "He'd better have a good excuse or he's going to live to regret it."

* * *

Newkirk ran outside and climbed up the roof, while Agent Franz followed him, pistol in hand. The train rocked and swayed under their feet, but Newkirk kept his balance better, thanks to his days in the circus. He charged against the German and pinned him down. However, he got distracted, trying to snatch the pistol as it slid away from them. Franz knocked him to the edge of the treacherous roof and grabbed him by the ankle, holding him while Newkirk swung upside down against a car window. Thinking fast, Newkirk clung to the window frame and tried to work his way back inside.

"Give up!" Agent Franz tried to pull him up.

"Go to Hell!" He yelled, glancing at the river and the dim lights over the bridge.

"You're the saboteur! Confess!" The agent felt that he was losing his grip but he wanted confirmation of his suspicious before killing the prisoner.

"Let me go and I'll tell you everything," Newkirk tried the window and it opened a little.

"What do you mean by everything?" The agent considered the offer.

The train took another curve and Newkirk seized the chance to kick the agent with his free leg. The clutching hands released him, and the agent hit the water. Newkirk held on with all he had while he pushed himself through the open window. After a short breather, he was ready to run to the last car and get the mailbag. He recognized it by a small symbol that their man in Frankfurt had drawn on it. Back in the compartment, Newkirk began to send light signals through the window with his flashlight, hoping that his friends were already in place on the bridge.

* * *

"Colonel!" Carter's voice showed his excitement as he felt the rails trembling.

"Whenever you're ready," Hogan smirked. This was not as he had planned it, but if they could not get the mailbag, they had to make sure no one else would.

LeBeau was still looking through his binoculars when something caught his attention. "Colonel, someone is making light signs."

Hogan called Kinch and handed him the binoculars. "It's a message."

"I'll be damned," Kinch laughed. "It's Newkirk!"

"Newkirk is on the train? How? Why?" Carter stared at the dimmed lights.

"He has the mailbag," Kinch turned to Hogan.

The colonel stepped forward. The explosives were already set and they had no time for a rescue. "Kinch, tell him to jump. He has to get out of that train now"

* * *

The train exploded too quickly, and then, seconds felt like hours. LeBeau walked along the river, but it was too dark to see anything. Finally, Carter heard something and called the others.

Newkirk grabbed Kinch's hand, and the sergeant pulled him out of the water. He was still clutching the mailbag when he sat on the shore, panting.

Hogan's relief was well masked. "Newkirk, where the Hell have you been? You'd better have a good explanation for being in that train."

"Yes, sir, I'll come up with something… quite a story, I promise," he shuddered but smiled.

**Epilogue**

"All present and accounted for," Schultz saluted colonel Klink before dismissing the prisoners. He was dying to ask Newkirk about the night before, but the Englishman seemed a little distracted. It was Hogan who came to talk to him instead.

"Schultz, you took one of my men out of the camp without telling me. That's against the Geneva convention."

"Colonel Hogan-"

"Save it, Newkirk told me part of the story," he signed for Newkirk to come closer. "I won't say anything, but I think you owe us one now."

Schultz smiled shyly, wondering what he meant by that, but he did not say a word until Hogan stepped aside. "I'm sorry, Newkirk, I panicked with my wife and the ring… I'm glad that you decided to come back."

"No problem, Schultzie," he shrugged. "Your wife still has the ring, she's pawning her nan's jewelry. She's been doing that for years."

"But the ring?"

"She loves that ring, but you have to be honest with her." Newkirk shook his head. "Hey, did you know that she keeps a gun under her pillow?"

"Oh, dah, I gave it to her, for her safety when I'm not at home."

"She almost shot me. You should've warned me."

"With all the excitement, I forgot, I'm sorry." Schultz shrugged, smiled and walked away.

Newkirk shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest. "_You know, being a prisoner of war is a very dangerous branch of the service,_" he told Hogan.

"Yes, especially when you decide to become freelance on my back," he grinned. "You owe us one too, Corporal." He patted the Englishman on the back as they walked back to the barracks.

**The end.**


End file.
